


Winter to Spring

by 40markjess



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: (but not for long), Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Sex, F/M, Female Friendship, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Slow Romance, Teacher-Student Relationship, Thieves Guild (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Trauma, except in ch. 1, non-con is all past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/40markjess/pseuds/40markjess
Summary: This is the tale of Aerlith Spring-Seeker, a foot-pad in the Riften Thieves Guild. She's been working her way up the ladder in the guild for the past six months, gaining the trust of her guild mates, dealing with a treacherous guild master, and appeasing daedra. The commotion has died down, but Aerlith's troubles are not over. The past she's been running from since she joined the guild catches up with her, which leaves her with some difficult choices about revenge, love, and her identity.
Relationships: Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

_ “Oh, I never knew it, you took me by surprise, _

_ While I was getting lost so deep inside your diamond eyes. _

_ So many things that I still want to say _

_ And if devotion is a river, then I’m floating away.” _

_ Love You for a Long Time, Maggie Rogers _

Aerlith woke alone, drowsily opening her eyes as the sounds of morning birds and running water filtered into her consciousness. A piney scent permeated the little fur tent. She rolled to one side, her sore muscles protesting. She closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the delicious dream she had been having. All she recalled were light touches, warm embraces, and a soft, deep voice calling her name. Well, not  _ her _ name precisely. No one knew her true name, only the false one she used day to day. She sighed. For the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her past for making her a fugitive. She rolled over again, restlessly seeking sleep, but hunger nagged at her stomach, so she reluctantly got up and exited the tent. 

Sitting on a boulder next to the stream babbling by, she stared up at the entrance of the ruin before her. The Twilight Sepulcher. The trials of the Pilgrim’s Path were still painfully fresh in her mind. Aerlith never liked ruins. The smell of decay, the damp darkness, and worst of all, the deafening silence, which often signaled the presence of slumbering draugr. She shuddered, recalling their evil glowing eyes and hollow flesh.

Despite her fear, Aerlith had been successful in her mission to return the Skeleton Key to its rightful place. She felt apathetic about Nocturnal, and suspected the lady of twilight felt similarly about her. Daedric princes were never concerned with the fates of their human worshippers, and to Aerlith it seemed a tad foolish to risk one’s life in exchange for unreliable favor. But no matter her skepticism, she’d completed Nocturnal’s trial, and at last reached the Ebonmere, where she returned the Skeleton Key. She didn’t do it for Nocturnal. She did it for her family.

She smiled sadly, thinking about Karliah and Gallus, saying their final goodbyes before he faded into the Evergloam. Gallus had extended his spectral hand to touch his beloved’s cheek with such tenderness and sincerity it made her heart ache. “Farewell,” Karliah had intoned softly, leaning into his intangible touch. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Her voice was even, and Aerlith couldn’t see her face, but something in her tone betrayed absolute misery at the parting. 

Aerlith took the last bite of her apple and stood. She stretched, then set about packing up her camp. She was tired, yes, but she was also brimming with excitement. Nocturnal would no longer sabotage the luck of the guild, and their chances of success would increase. The wealth would marginally improve the lives of her newfound family, and she couldn’t wait to share in their happiness. And, of course, she was curious about what  _ he _ would have to say. 

Aerlith hired a carriage to take her from Falkreath to Riften, opting for comfort and rest in exchange for one hundred-fifty hard earned septims. But it was worth it, she thought, snuggled under a warm fur cloak and hood, watching the scenery pass by idly while the horse did all the work. Her life for the past few weeks had been constant hiking, camping and delving into dangerous ruins. She was ready for a break.

One long day and night later, the carriage creaked its way up a gentle rise, and Riften Stables came into view. Feeling lethargic and in need of exercise, Aerlith tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to let her off. He obliged, and urged his horse up the road without her. 

She strolled languidly along the road, slowly stretching her stiff legs. The Rift was blooming. The aspens sprouted new leaves, wildflowers grew madly across the landscape, and birds were everywhere, singing their chirruping songs. Aerlith breathed in the clean spring air, intoxicated by the warmth and life of it all. After the dank Sepulcher and gloomy Falkreath hold, this was paradise. 

By and by she reached the main gate of Riften, nodding to the guards in their livery, who smiled coyly at her as she passed. They knew who she was, or at least, they knew her reputation in the hold. She had been gone for a long time, and among the nosy guards there were several betting pools on whether she’d make it back alive. The guard guffawed and shook hands with his partner, who reluctantly tossed him a purse. Arielle had returned home at last, and he was rich. 

Aerlith skirted the marketplace, moving quickly along the perimeter towards the keep. Though it was a warm day, she pulled her hood securely over her face, and kept her head down. Thankfully, it was a busy time in the market, so she was able to slip through without attracting much attention. 

At the secret back entrance to the cistern, she nudged the button and waited for the coffin to slide back. As usual it made an unpleasantly loud grinding sound, and she wondered for the hundredth time why none of the citizens ever commented on it, or attempted to gain entry. It was another strange feature of Riften life. She still wasn’t used to the confounding apathy that permeated the city.

Below, she lifted the hatch and descended the ladder into the darkness. Though the cistern was damp and cool, warmth spread from her heart when she saw her guildmates gathered on the center dais. Everyone was here, safe, and from the looks of it listening raptly to Karliah. The dark elf stood beside Brynjolf, entertaining the small crowd with her part of the tale of the Skeleton Key’s return. Arielle approached silently to listen.

“I was working to clear some rubble when I saw the portal glow to life. I knew what must have happened, and I eagerly stepped through it and into Nocturnal’s sanctum. I just managed to catch the lady fading back into her realm, and then I saw Arielle. Her face was the perfect picture of shock. I called out to her and she looked at me as if from a hundred miles away. I swear I’ve never seen her look so bewildered.” Karliah smiled, and Brynjolf chuckled softly, looking thoughtful.

“In all fairness,” Aerlith said softly, feeling the eyes of her guildmates shift to her, “If you’d just taken a leap of faith, fallen toward your certain death, and then come face to face with a daedric prince for the first time, I imagine you’d look the same, Karliah,” she smiled, meeting her friends’ eyes.

Karliah beamed at her. “Welcome back Arielle!” She crossed the dais and pulled her into a tight hug. “Would you care to share your side of the story?”

“At the moment, all I would like is a bath and a bottle of Surilie wine,” she said, smiling. “And, to be honest, I think our lady would like to keep some of her secrets sacred.” Aerlith winked at Rune, who was staring at her with boldfaced shock.

Brynjolf stepped toward her, smiling. “Well done, lass. It’s good to see you in one piece.” He clapped her shoulder, then became more serious. “I’m not much good at things like this, but I need to thank you for all you’ve done for the guild. I’m so proud-”

“Oh, enough fluff Brynjolf,” Vex said exasperatedly. “We’re all happy. Let the poor woman have her bath in peace.”

Karliah grinned and squeezed Aerlith’s hand. “Indeed. Let’s all go to the Flagon and have a proper celebration!”

The guild all made approving noises and began to filter out, several of the members stopping to offer words of encouragement to Aerlith. 

“Arielle!” exclaimed one, a handsome, burly nord with striking warpaint beneath his eyes. “I’m so glad you returned safely. ” He took her hand and kissed it, never breaking eye contact. “My sword and bow are always at the ready for you. You need not fear any foe with me by your side.”

“Hello Thrynn,” Aerith said tiredly. “Pleasure as always.” She pulled her hand away. “But I really would like to go relax now. It was a long journey from Falkreath. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “Perhaps you’d like some company in the bath, little dove,” he growled softly, his voice like the ragged edge of an old battleaxe. She could feel his breath on her ear. A chill ran down her neck, goosebumps rising. 

“No,” she said firmly, “Thank you.” She pulled away from him, and strode, head held high across the cistern to the entrance of the baths.

Thrynn admired her retreating figure until it vanished into darkness. He turned to go to the Flagon, but was stopped short in his tracks by Brynjolf, who leaned against a wall by the door, face wreathed in shadow. Thrynn scowled. “What are you doing skulking around like that, Brynjolf? Out of the way.” He tried to push past, but Brynjolf stopped him.

“When will you give it up, Thrynn?”

“Give what up?”

“Arielle. I don’t know how many times you need to be rejected for the message to come across loud and clear,” Brynjolf stood up, taking a step closer. 

Thrynn laughed heartily at the threat. “You know nothing of women if you thought  _ that _ was rejection,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “Women always play hard to get.” He smiled lasciviously then continued, “That’s what makes Arielle so irresistibly delicious.”

Brynjolf’s mouth set into a grim line. “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s not a blushing lady for you to seduce. She is your sister in arms,” he said forcefully. 

The bandit chuckled. “Not like you to be so hypocritical, Brynjolf. You hold your subordinates to a higher standard than yourself.”

“Not sure what you are implying, but I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” Brynjolf’s green eyes hardened, the anger in them sharper than the finest glass dagger.

Thrynn swallowed. “Everyone knows about you and the fence,” he said boldly.

“Oh yes?” Brynjolf smiled darkly at Thrynn, and the bandit wondered for a moment if he should be ready to brawl. “Get out of my sight,” the second in command spat at him. 

Relieved, Thrynn pushed past his superior and rushed through the door to the Flagon. Brynjolf frowned, his brow furrowed, and stared off into the darkness where Arielle had been a moment before. 

Aerlith had never been so happy to sink into a hot bath. She wasted no time, quickly shimmying out of her light armor, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She lowered herself indulgently into the water. The grime from the Sepulcher, the dust from the road, and the cold of Skyrim that permeated her bones gave way to the warmth of the water. She glowed with happy contentment. She was home among her friends again. The faces of Karliah, Vex, Brynjolf and Delvin brought such joy to her. After her lonely sojourn through Skyrim, she had everything she needed. And Brynjolf was  _ proud  _ of her. His warm green eyes and welcome smile made her glow even brighter. She grabbed up her soap and began to wash, smiling to herself.

Her mind wandered unbidden back to Thrynn. The former bandit was friendly enough, though difficult to trust at the best of times. But his constant flirting was beginning to be more than just a minor annoyance. She’d failed to reject him firmly enough the first time, and he had been ignoring her subsequent tries with horrifyingly admirable gumption.

When Aerlith first joined the guild, Thrynn, along with practically every other man with eyes had been quite open about their interest in her. At first she had blushed furiously red when they complimented her, or touched her. She would always freeze in place and clam up, her mind unable to form thoughts, her mouth unable to speak. Her innocent reaction made them laugh, at which point they would ruffle her hair and leave her to go about their business. Aerlith began spending more time with Vex, observing how her friend would openly laugh at the men accosting her, and she learned how to handle unwanted advances with more confidence. As she rejected the men, one by one they moved on. It was better this way. She hoped their interest stemmed merely from her novelty, and not from any other motives. 

Thrynn was not as easy to deal with. He pushed past her discouragement, whether it was polite or harsh. He continued to harass her, to touch her, to whisper vile things in her ear that made her blush. She felt beat down by his constant disregard for her wish to be left alone, and had resolved to just ignore him when she could. It reminded her a little too much of the way Jarl Siddgeir’s sneering, lecherous expression, when he cornered her in the darkened servant’s quarters all those months ago. She shuddered at the memory. She could still feel his body weight pressing her into the wall, the hard length of his arousal grinding into her angrily. Something died within her that night. She had no skills, no strength, and no way out. Her silver eyes hardened. Things had changed. If she ever met Siddgeir again, she would have her revenge.

Aerlith soaped her long, pale blonde hair, gently teasing out the tangles. She never felt more powerful, more able to protect herself at this moment. The frightened and helpless girl she once was had grown into a dangerous woman. Her mediocre skills with a dagger, which had been scoffed at by Vilkas of Jorrvaskr, had improved under Brynjolf’s friendly tutelage. Thanks to him, and to the other members of the guild who shared their expertise, Aerlith was silent, fast, and deadly. 

Feeling clean and refreshed, Aerlith allowed herself a moment to wallow in the hot water. There was one man in the guild who was ostensibly uninterested in her: Brynjolf. His attentions to her were friendly, but professional. He patiently taught her the tools of a thief’s trade, gently correcting her when she needed it. She was grateful that he did not ridicule her inexperience. He offered his advice after giving her a job, and usually ended by staring her down with his shiny green eyes as he said, “And be careful, lass.”

When she returned successful and pocket jingling with coin, he would clap her on the back or shoulder, offering her encouragement and smiles that she hoped contained pride. She was his protege, after all. Thanks to Brynjolf, Aerlith had a safe place to sleep, and a well paying job that allowed her to keep a low profile. She was more than grateful to him, and their relationship was more than a simple friendship. But whether her feelings for him were platonic was a question she desperately tried to avoid. She knew he didn’t see her as anything more than a pupil. 

However, Aerlith occasionally caught him staring at her from across rooms, his eyes serious as he contemplated her. It seemed unfair to her that she couldn’t decipher the meaning behind this. It was all too easy to imagine that he felt something for her too. On the night they met, Brynjolf flirted with her shamelessly, and though she knew now that his attention had been false, simply a means to an end, her attraction and interest in him that night was real. 

Another memory fought its way to the surface. The guild threw a large celebration when the three Nightingales returned successful, Mercer dead and Karliah safely home again with her honor restored. That night, Aerlith begged off an arm wrestling match with Vex, opting to take a cup of wine to a quiet table on the outer ring of the din. There she sat and watched the merriment, laughing as Vekel hit on Tonilia and she slapped him forcefully for his impertinence, nearly knocking the slight man down. Tonilia huffed away, going to sit across from Brynjolf at his table. As Aerlith’s eyes followed the woman in amusement, they lit upon Brynjolf and stuck there. He was watching her again. She looked back at him, surprised. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face. The shadows made it too difficult to see, but the glint in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

She didn’t look away. Neither did he. Aerlith felt heat beginning to rise in her cheeks, but she was transfixed. His green eyes shone at her as he leaned forward into the candlelight, resting his chin on his hand. The light revealed his faintly amused smile, which she returned hesitantly. But then, Tonilia said something to him and he looked away, the tension released. Aerlith felt let down. The rumors of Brynjolf and Tonilia’s romantic involvement may not have been true, but to Aerlith it seemed they shared a closer relationship than was usual. It pricked her to see him smile so easily and openly with Tonilia, joking raunchily and teasing her. With Aerlith, Brynjolf acted as the wise teacher, the helpful mentor. Her gratitude prevented her from feeling resentment, but her disappointment could not be helped.

Aerlith finished scrubbing her hair and rose from the bath. She toweled herself quickly and dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, pulling on her stockings and boots. She didn’t bother to arrange her hair or apply any cosmetics. Fatigue wore on her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the giddy depths of a bottle.

She entered the tavern a few minutes later. Karliah, sitting with Vex and Delvin, saw her come in and motioned for her to join them. Aerlith smiled and went over. 

“Here you are, yer ladyship,” Delvin said gruffly, pouring her a cup of her favorite Surilie vintage. “Only the best for the woman of the hour.”

Aerlith sat down and picked up the cup. Seized by a sudden emotion, she raised it and said, “To the guild! May it last another thousand years.” The others raised their flagons as well, adding their “Hear, hear”s and “To the guild!”s. Aerlith drank deeply, draining half her cup in one go. She wasn’t planning on drinking lightly.

“So,” Vex said, “Care to tell us more about your exploits, Arielle? Delvin is practically foaming at the mouth with curiosity.” She smiled wickedly at him, and he smacked her hand. 

Aerlith laughed. She had missed the banter of her friends during her long journey alone. She drank again, considering. Vex was still looking at her curiously, so she said, “Not much to tell I’m afraid, Vex.”

Vex scowled. “You Nightingales and your secrets,” she muttered darkly. But she brightened up quickly when she spotted something over Aerlith’s shoulder. “Watch out,” she said, smiling sneakily at Aerlith and rising from the table. “Delvin, Karliah, come here. I want to show you something.” Vex beckoned them across the room, leaving Aerlith alone with her wine. 

Puzzled, Aerlith drained the rest of her cup, and reached for the bottle to pour another. A larger, rougher hand covered hers and tightened it against the glass bottleneck. 

“Thirsty tonight, eh little dove?” Thrynn’s rough voice whispered in her ear. Aerlith pulled her hand away, and watched as Thrynn poured her wine, filling her cup nearly to the brim. He moved and sat down in the chair next to hers, resting his head on one hand lazily. “I can think of many more delicious ways to quench your thirst.” He licked his lips, the suggestion obvious.

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your input Thrynn.”

He chuckled. “So cold. Any other man would think you hated him.”

“Then why don’t you take the hint?” Aerlith asked sharply.

Thrynn leaned back in his chair and regarded her. She felt his eyes roaming over her face and body. “I want you to sing for me, little dove,” he crooned, taking her hand in his. “I’ve the skilled hands of a thief and the strength of a barbarian...care to take a ride?”

Aerlith yanked her hand away, standing unsteadily and staring down at him. She swallowed her nerves and said, “I am not your  _ little dove _ , Thrynn. I am a Nightingale, an agent of Nocturnal. And believe me,” she said, her words pure venomous threat, “I am more than capable of making  _ you _ sing for me.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger, staring at him pointedly.

Thrynn stood and pulled her to him, his hands tight on her waist. His eyes burned with desire. “That’s the fire I love about you,” he said roughly. Before she could react, he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers. 

Panic took hold of her, and she tried to wrench away, but he was too strong for her. Desperately, she fumbled for her dagger, drew it, and stabbed it mercilessly into his thigh. Thrynn howled and released her. Aerlith pulled her dagger back and brandished it, sinking into her fighting stance. 

“Little bitch,” Thrynn spat. He reached for his battle axe. 

“Enough,” Delvin said, stepping between Aerlith and Thrynn. “Calm down the lot of you.” He looked over his shoulder at Aerlith. “All right?” She nodded. “Good. Now, get yer hackles down Thrynn, before I gut you like a fish.” 

Thrynn looked from her and back to Delvin. The tavern had gone quiet. Aerlith did not turn around, but from Thrynn’s mild panic, she could tell the thieves were watching the scene with little love for the bandit. “Fuck you,” Thrynn spat at Delvin, and turned to leave the Flagon from the front entrance. The door slammed behind him.

Aerlith breathed out, slow and steady. She grabbed a linen from the table and wiped her dagger on it, sliding it back into the sheathe. Karliah appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Arielle?” she said with concern.

“Fine,” Aerlith said, anger still coursing through her. “That bastard deserved it.”

“He did indeed,” Karliah said, a smile curling her lips. Around them, the thieves returned to their drinks, and conversation began to buzz again.

“I need a drink,” Aerlith said, beginning to relax again. 

“It’s on me,” Karliah laughed and headed to the bar to procure another bottle.

Aerlith sat with Karliah, watching her guildmates fraternize and drink. Delvin brought out his lute, and Dirge his drum, and the two began playing a lively tune. Tonilia got up and started to dance, her lithe body and agile feet drawing the eyes of every man in the room. Aerlith’s eyes drifted to the bar, where she saw Brynjolf sitting the wrong way round on his stool, leaning back on the bar as he watched Tonilia dance, smiling and occasionally sipping his drink. 

_ He is so handsome _ , Aerlith mused. Brynjolf had shiny long hair the color of garnet, which set off the color of his deep set green eyes. But it wasn’t his appearance as much as his personality that made him stand out. He had a habit of catching her off guard with a sly look in his eyes, saying her name with his lilting accent, catching her in a daydream when she was supposed to be learning lockpicking. She would snap out of her trance and meet his eyes, and get lost again for a moment before smiling apologetically and telling him to continue with his teaching. 

All the lifesaving lessons he taught were sorely needed. After her family went missing, she arrived in Skyrim and became a ward of the old Jarl of Falkreath, the suspicious and feeble Dengeir. Her mother had a cousin who worked in the longhouse, so Aerlith was allowed to live there in return for working in the kitchen and cleaning up after the Jarl’s family. She didn’t hate it there, but when Dengeir’s nephew Siddgeir assumed the throne, the trouble began. Siddgeir took an unhealthy interest in his ward, resulting in the terrifying night he had confronted her in her room. Worse, once he had his fun, he threw Aerlith cruelly out into the street, claiming that she was a liability he couldn’t afford any longer. He may very well have been correct, but without his protection, Aerlith was a sitting duck. 

The day two strangers came through Falkreath asking after a pale haired girl with silver eyes, she fled with her few possessions and never looked back. Aerlith didn’t adjust well to life on the run. She arrived in Riverwood hungry, filthy and tired, and nearly collapsed on the porch of the inn. She had enough money to pay her way, but being a weak young lady with riches and no protection, she soon lost half her purse to a sneak thief in the night. Desperate, she moved on from Riverwood to Whiterun, with shallow hope that she would find sanctuary at the Temple of Kynareth. 

Lost in reverie, she realized she was still staring at Brynjolf. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she turned back to her bottle, attempting to drown out her thoughts with the intoxicating liquid. Karliah regarded her, sipping from her own cup. “Something on your mind, friend?”

“That business with Thrynn took me back to a different time,” she said, her face hard. “I haven’t always been as good with a blade.” Aerlith wanted to unburden herself and share her troubles with Karliah, but she couldn’t risk it. From Falkreath to Riften, she was hunted by various heavily armed strangers. She suspected they were the same men who took her parents away, come to finish the job. Telling her story to anyone was foolish and could possibly bring harm to them. 

Karliah smiled sadly. “Being a woman in Skyrim is tough. But you are strong and worth their respect,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the gathered guild. “It is good that you remind them now and then.” 

Aerlith grinned. Though Karliah knew nothing of her past, Aerlith always felt that her friend understood her perfectly. It was a comfort beyond measure. “At least I have you, my friend. I couldn’t ask for a better sister in darkness.” 

The dark elf laughed and patted her hand. “I’m off to bed,” she said, standing. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Aerlith nodded at the familiar send off. 

“Good night.”

Some time later, when the music had ceased and most guild members had stumbled off to bed, Aerlith tipped the bottle into her cup once more, only to be disappointed when nothing poured out. She sighed and leaned over the table, contemplating throwing in the towel and going to bed. Questing in the interest of the guild was great and noble, but it definitely didn’t make her rich. She tiredly imagined how many jobs she would have to take on before she made up for all the traveling expenses.

While she was lost in thought, Brynjolf came over silently and plunked a full bottle of wine on her table, making her jump a bit. “You shouldn’t have an empty cup, lass,” He said, looking down at her with playful eyes and a warm smile.

Aerlith nodded her approval and reached for the bottle. She noted that Brynjolf also looked pretty deep in his cups. His cheeks were reddened and his eyes were extra shiny. 

“May I join you?” 

“Of course,” she replied, taking a sip and offering him the bottle when he sat opposite her. He poured out a cup for himself, then looked at her for a moment. 

“I never got to thank you properly earlier,” he said. 

Her heart swelled, but she kept her voice even as she said, “I got all the thanks necessary from Lady Nocturnal herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” he laughed. “But truly, without your help, the guild would still be under the thumb of Mercer and suffering from a daedra’s displeasure.” He looked at her seriously, and she felt herself beginning to blush. “I’m very glad I chose to scam you of all the people in the city that day,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Aerlith took a swig of wine to cool herself. Feeling vulnerable, she spoke quietly, “If you hadn’t tried to rob me, I never would have joined the guild, and would have wandered alone forever.” She chanced a look up at him. “All the skills you’ve taught me have saved my life countless times already. Performing this task for the guild was nothing in comparison to what I’ve received.” Saying it felt right, but Aerlith thought Brynjolf would laugh at her sincerity as he usually did. 

He surprised her by reaching across the table and grasping her hand tightly in his. His grip was warm, his calloused fingers rough as they held hers fast. “Don’t be silly. You’ve accomplished something great, and I’m proud of you, Arielle.” He stared intensely into her eyes, burning her with the heat of his conviction. 

She pulled her hand back and took another long drink from her cup. She grinned at him. “It’s a strange thing, hearing a thief speak so earnestly,” she joked, trying to dispel the tension she felt.

“As I said, I’m not one for sincerity. Enjoy it while it lasts, lass.” She relaxed a bit, knowing that the hard part was over. “Now, about that bandit,” he said, looking at her smugly.

“What about him?” She asked, twisting the silver ring on her right hand repetitively. Maybe the ‘hard part’ would never really be over with Bryn.

“I enjoy seeing Thrynn being put in his place. Well done indeed, Arielle,” he replied, a sly smile playing over his lips. 

_ Oh. He saw that _ . Shame burned a blush in her cheeks. She didn’t like to imagine what Brynjolf must have thought, seeing her with him. The memory of Thrynn’s hands on her felt dirty. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said, looking down. “I did what had to be done.”

“And did it well,” he said gently. Aerlith raised her eyes to his. Brynjolf smiled. “Chin up, lass. That bastard couldn’t best you if he trained for a hundred years.”

A poignant feeling of relief and sadness stung her. Aerlith fought back tears, disguising her pain by gulping deeply from her cup. She wanted to say something, but her thoughts were scattered. Her mind’s eye kept flashing to Thrynn’s face, his mouth stealing hers, his hands gripping her painfully. Siddgeir slid into her thoughts too, clouding her vision with fear and shame. She breathed out shakily, carefully training her gaze into her cup.

“Arielle? Are you alright?” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, coming up close beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder. 

Finally, she looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she said, voice breaking. She felt tears begin to fall and blushed, looking down again. Brynjolf knelt down and leveled with her gaze. 

Tentatively, his eyes searching hers, he reached up and touched her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away, and she inhaled shakily, unsure of how to react to his touch. “It’s all right, lass. Whatever the trouble is, we can make it right,” he said slowly. 

“I can’t shake them, Brynjolf,” she said, trying to speak through the sob choking her. “No matter where I go.” She hung her head again, resting it in his palm. “I will never be free from my past,” she concluded, and despair overwhelmed her. She cried softly in front of him, hating herself and hating her weakness. But she was tired, so very tired, and his kindness had opened a floodgate within her.

For a horrible moment, Brynjolf stayed very still, and she dreaded his reaction. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took her hands in his and pulled her to him, carefully encircling her in a gentle embrace. “All right, Arielle. It’s all right,” he whispered. He stroked her hair, letting her ride out the sadness. Finally, her crying quieted into sniffles, and she felt him pull her tighter to him “That’s it, lass.” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

Aerlith tried to calm her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of the past threatened to take her over again. With her head pressed against his chest, Aerlith could hear Brynjolf’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm pulled her focus back to the present. Gradually, she felt herself coming down to earth as her breathing slowed and her thoughts cleared. 

Reality rushed back in like frigid water, a cruel reminder of who she was, who he was, and where they were. Aerlith pulled away from Brynjolf quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. “I should go.” She nodded to him and tried to make a hasty exit. 

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed her arm. Aerlith didn’t look at him. She couldn't. “I’m worried about you, Arielle. Can’t I help you?” The worried kindness in his voice almost made her break again. 

Aerlith steeled herself. Turning to her mentor and smiling brightly, she said, “Nothing’s much wrong, Bryn.” His brow furrowed as he watched her skeptically. “I’m just very, very tired, and I think I’ve had too much wine. I’m sorry to make a scene.”

“Alright, lass, if that’s really how you feel.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pulled her into him again, wrapping her in his arms tightly. He held her silently for a long moment. Aerlith listened to his heartbeat again, wishing she could hear it forever.  _ I broke so easily for him _ , she thought, squeezing her eyes closed. Wrapped up in his warmth, she realized that for the first time in a very long time, she felt totally safe. Safe enough that the iron doors of her resolve cracked open, revealing the vulnerability and fear within. The revelation scared her, but she didn’t pull away this time. She breathed him in. His scent was leather, wine, smoke, and just a hint of sweat. Eyes closed, she let him lull her into a state of serenity.

Finally, he held her out at arms length. “Get some rest then,” he said, smiling gently. Before she could move, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, lingering there. Aerlith's eyes widened in surprise. So many invisible lines had been crossed tonight, but what truly surprised her was how  _ right _ it all felt. Brynjolf took a deep breath and pulled away, blowing it out slowly as he stared at her. The look in his eyes confounded her. It was a cross between tenderness and fiery determination, with a touch of heated aggression that made her breath catch in her chest. 

Aerlith smiled. “Thank you, Bryn,” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes still burning with that mysterious energy. “Good night, then.” Aerlith walked off to bed, praying to the divines that it hadn’t been a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

_ “When you walk through the door _

_ I pretend not to see it. _

_ Put my heart on the floor _

_ But I keep it a secret.” _

_ DaNcing in a RoOm - EZI _

The next morning, Aerlith woke to the sound of Karliah’s soft voice. “You don’t look so good, Arielle,” her friend said. Her cot sank as Karliah sat down. Aerlith raised herself up on her elbows and groaned, the room spinning. Her head and heart pounded painfully. 

She grinned weakly at Karliah. “I should have been more careful with the wine last night.”

“Care for some water?”

“Thanks,” Aerlith said gratefully. She gulped from the waterskin greedily, washing the taste of stale wine from her mouth. When she could drink no more, she collapsed back on her pillow. “I shall never get drunk again,” she said solemnly.

Karliah laughed. “Of course. I wonder if you’d like to get some fresh air? The sun is hiding behind some heavy clouds this morning. It’s quite lovely by the lake.”

Aerlith nodded. “Perhaps you’d like to carry me?” she joked. 

The elf smacked her leg playfully. “Come on. You’ll feel better once you’re above ground.”

Aerlith walked silently along the shores of Lake Honrich, with Karliah by her side. She grudgingly admitted that Karliah was right; the cool morning air helped her headache immensely. “It’s a beautiful morning,” she said softly. “Even more so when you consider our guild will start to prosper again.”

“Indeed.” Karliah smiled sadly. “Being back here with the guild, it’s unbelievable.” She stopped, staring out at the lake. “I never dared to hope that I could return. But thanks to your efforts, they’ve welcomed me back with open arms. Even Brynjolf.”

“You belong here, with us. You were instrumental in restoring the guild’s honor too, Karliah,” Aerlith said. 

Karliah didn’t reply. Aerlith breathed deeply, savoring the quiet. A moment of relaxation in her life was a rare thing. She watched as a mudcrab scuttled across the opposite shore.  _ Peaceful _ . 

“It’s strange,” Karliah said eventually, “I should be happy, and I am. But I can’t shake the idea that something is wrong. I am dreading something looming on the horizon.”

Aerlith turned to her friend. “What could it be?” she asked with concern.

Karliah sighed. “I don’t know. But I must confess something to you, Arielle.” The elf turned and took Aerlith’s hand in hers. “I’m not going to stay here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going back to Nightingale Hall. I’ll make it my home.”

Aerlith blinked in surprise. “But, Karliah, you just returned. The guild needs you. I need you, my friend.”

“I just can’t stay, Arielle.” Karliah’s eyes pleaded with her to understand. “Gallus is everywhere here. Everytime I turn a corner I expect him to be there. The memories are too vivid, and they’re breaking me apart.”

Aerlith pulled her friend into a hug. “I understand.” She heard Karliah sniff, her breath shaky. She couldn’t imagine the stoic woman crying. Her heart ached. 

Karliah pulled away and brushed her face with her hand. “You are always welcome in the Hall. I had hoped you would visit often.”

“Of course I will,” Aerlith said softly. “If this is truly what you want, I won’t say another word in protest.” 

“Thank you,” Karliah said. “And please give my apologies to Brynjolf and the rest.”

“You’re leaving now?”

“Yes.”

Aerlith tried to hold back her tears. “Alright, then. I’ll explain as best I can. They’ll have many questions.” 

“I know.” They embraced once more. Aerlith clung to her tightly. Karliah was her only true friend in the world. She felt as though part of her heart was being cruelly excised. They parted, and said in unison, “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.”

Karliah chuckled. “You’re turning out to be a fine Nightingale, Arielle. Farewell. Until we meet again.” The elf walked away and faded into the shadows of the woods, leaving Aerlith feeling quite alone indeed. 

Back underground, Aerlith lingered over her breakfast, lost in thought. She couldn’t be angry with Karliah for leaving. She’d seen how broken her friend was over losing Gallus. But her despair at their parting was difficult to bear without placing the blame  _ somewhere _ . She left her meal half finished and drifted through the cistern. She found herself in the training room, which was mercifully empty. She faced a training dummy and regarded it thoughtfully. 

“Mercer,” she whispered malevolently. It seemed their adversary was still mucking things up from beyond the grave. Aerlith drew her dagger and squared off. She slashed at the dummy’s torso, satisfied with the heavy contact as steel met wood.  _ Again _ . She stabbed this time, putting as much force as she could behind her strike. Her weapon left a deep pock mark. She drew back quickly, and drove up at straw head, sinking the blade deep in, just where a man’s head would meet his neck. Finally, she spun viciously, winding up a powerful slash. Her dagger zipped through the air, and the dummy’s head rolled off its shoulder and onto the ground with a cathartic thunk.

Breathing hard, Aerlith smiled. She felt better already. 

“Good to see you’re keeping up your skills.” An accented voice broke the silence, and she whipped around, her dagger still brandished. “Whoa there, lass. Careful where you point that thing.” Brynjolf stepped into the light, grinning. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and fumbled awkwardly to sheathe her weapon.  _ Fuck _ . Aerlith had completely forgotten about their interaction last night. But with his surprise appearance, it all came back in a wave. The memory of him so close to her, his warmth, his kindness. She blushed furiously. “Sorry, Bryn.”

“Your strength still needs some work, but your form is near perfect.” His eyes shone at her. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t judge too harshly. How’s your head this morning?”

_ Divines help me _ , she thought. Not for the first time, she wished she had better control over her blushing. “Much improved, thanks,” she muttered. She turned away and tried to make herself busy repairing the dummy. “I went out for some fresh air with Karliah this morning, and that seemed to help.” She felt a pang as she said her friend’s name. 

“Where is the lass? I’ve been looking for her all morning,” Brynjolf asked.

She turned back to him, trying to find the best words to explain. “She’s gone back to Nightingale Hall,” Aerlith finally said. 

“I see,” Brynjolf replied. He looked thoughtful. “Delvin gave me a job this morning, a direct order from Maven. I was hoping to take Karliah along, but if she’s not returning for a while…” He looked to her for confirmation. Aerlith nodded slowly. “Ah. Then, would you mind helping me out? It’s a two man job.”

“Who’s the mark?” Aerlith asked, her interest piqued. Jobs from Maven were always tricky, but paid extremely well. 

“Malinus and Pelinus Vonon. Imperial merchants. They’ll be in Whiterun for the next couple of days. They’re on their way to Riften with a delivery for Maven, but she feels they’ve cheated her on the price. She wants both keys to be fished simultaneously, and then wants their cache emptied and her goods recovered.”

Aerlith raised her eyebrows. “Why simultaneously?”

“Both keys are needed to open their safe. And Maven claims the brothers have enchanted amulets that form a telepathic link between them. If they realize that one key has been stolen, she fears they’ll never leave the cache unguarded.”

“Right. I’ll be glad to help,” she grinned confidently. “It sounds like fun.” 

“Great. I’m planning to leave as soon as possible, so meet me in the marketplace when you’re ready. Wear guild armor. I don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention with that Nightingale getup.” Aerlith nodded and started to walk past him. “Oh, and Arielle,” he said softly. She looked up at him. “Do you want to talk about last night?” He stepped toward her, face unreadable. 

“Erm,” Aerlith said. Her stomach squirmed awkwardly. “I don’t know.” 

“Relax, lass. I’m not trying to interrogate you. I just want to know you’re alright.” He smiled at her easily. She wished she could be as nonchalant as him. 

She breathed out shakily. “It’s fine. That nasty business with Thrynn got me shaken up.” A shiver of repulsion went through her. “Is he...around this morning?”

“No,” Brynjolf said quietly. “Haven’t seen him yet.”

“Good.” Aerlith frowned.  _ What’ll happen when he does come back? _

Brynjolf stepped closer again. The proximity kicked her heart into a furious pace, and she felt herself blushing again.  _ Damn my impertinent blood _ , she thought. Brynjolf reached out and lifted her face with his hand. His eyes were deadly serious. “If he does come back, he’ll have me to deal with.” He stared at her intensely. 

Aerlith couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His gaze pinned her mind to one terrible thought:  _ I want him to kiss me _ . The idea shocked her out of immobility, and she jumped back, stumbling, and fell hard on her backside. “Ow,” she said, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten. She looked up at her teacher, stunned.

Brynjolf looked down at her, looking as surprised as she felt. Then he started to laugh. She sat there motionless, then the ridiculousness of the situation hit her and she laughed too. The tension in her mind dissipated as she relaxed into their common amusement. Brynjolf held out his hand for her, grinning mischievously. “Jumpy this morning, aren’t you?”

Aerlith chuckled as she took his hand and let him help her up. “All the pent up energy will be useful on the job.”

“Aye,” he said. “Just don’t shake like a leaf when your hand’s in the mark’s pocket.”

She laughed. “No shakes, I promise. Now let me go.” She pulled her hand away from him, affecting frustration. “I need to pack.” 

“Get after it,” he said, and slapped her on the back lightly as she left the room. 

_ Everything’s fine _ , she thought.  _ It’s all back to normal now. _ She just needed to keep her head on straight, keep the blasphemous thoughts about Brynjolf at bay. Keep her distance from him.  _ And definitely do  _ not _ allow yourself to get drunk in his presence _ ! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good luck with that, Aerlith!  
> Hope you enjoyed <3


	3. Chapter 3

_ Some mistakes are worth making _

_ Sometimes the time is worth wasting _

_ Some heartbreaks are worth braving _

_ I know, you know, you know _

_ -Closer, Powers _

The sun was setting fast behind the mountains as Aerlith and Brynjolf crossed into Whiterun Hold. Darkening plains stretched before them. “We’ll camp here. No good getting ambushed in the dark by brigands,” Brynjolf said, dismounting and leading his horse over to a rocky outcropping. 

Aerlith followed suit. She'd kept quiet on their ride through the Rift, not trusting herself to speak. She was determined to keep herself on the straight and narrow. The revelation that she  _ had feelings _ for her mentor and fellow Nightingale kept her mind occupied, at least. 

Once the horses were tied and resting, they set about making camp. The outcropping provided shelter, so she didn’t set up her tent, just set her bedroll and pack to the side. “I’ll gather some firewood,” she said. Brynjolf nodded and continued with his preparations. Aerlith headed off to a small stand of trees. Thinking about being so close to him had her nervous.  _ I’ve got to get it together. There’s bigger worries, anyway. _ She still hadn’t told him about Karliah’s decision to live away from the guild, and the challenging job from Maven was still ahead of her.

With a few dry branches in hand, she came back to the camp. “Thanks,” Brynjolf said, smiling at her. Aerlith groaned inwardly. This was torture. A few minutes later, she had a fire going, and Brynjolf produced a loaf of bread and a few apples from his pack. She took the food gratefully and sat by the fire. 

Brynjolf sat down beside her, a little too close for her preference. She wrapped her cloak around her and tried to ignore her increasing heart rate. Brynjolf bit into his apple and chewed. The silence grew between them. It was uncomfortable, and Aerlith sighed before she could stop herself. 

“Something on your mind, lass?” Brynjolf asked idly. 

_ Better now than later _ , she thought. “I was thinking of Karliah,” she said. Though she dreaded this conversation, at least it was something to talk about. “Bryn, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

He looked over at her. “What is it?”

“She’s not coming back.” Her voice wobbled a little. What wouldn’t she give to have Karliah with them right now? Things were easier when the trinity was together. 

“What?” Brynjolf sounded disbelieving. “She’s leaving the guild?”

“I don’t know about that. She didn’t say,” Aerlith explained. “But she went to Nightingale Hall for good.”

Brynjolf sighed. “What is she thinking?” He asked rhetorically. They were quiet for a long time, staring into the flames. Aerlith gathered her cloak tighter around herself. It was colder in Whiterun than in The Rift. “Arielle, I’m sorry,” he said finally. 

“What for?” She asked in a small voice. 

“For her leaving.” He leaned back and rested on his elbows so she couldn’t see his face. “I know you were close.”

“Yes,” Aerlith said sadly. She felt Karliah’s absence, cold and empty. “But it isn’t your fault. She left for her own reasons.”

“Aye, that she did.”

“It’s just…” Aerlith trailed off. She didn’t want to get herself in trouble again. 

Brynjolf sat up. “Yes?” 

She looked over at him, and saw that his eyes were sad too. “We made a good team, the three of us,” she said finally, smiling a little. 

He returned her small smile. “Two-thirds is better than one, Arielle. You still have me. I’ll try to fill in where Karliah feels missed,” he said gently. Then he laughed. “Though I’m afraid trading clothing is out of the question,” he joked. 

In spite of herself, Aerlith chuckled. “I’d like to see you try and fit in my trousers.”

Brynjolf flashed her a wicked grin. “I doubt I’d fill them out as well as you do, lass.”

Aerlith blushed and laughed to hide her nervousness. He was crossing lines again. “Have you any further intel on our marks?” She asked, trying to change the subject.

Brynjolf hummed and stared into the fire. “Just that they’re usually found in the market during the morning. A good place to hit them. And they’re currently residing in Dragonsreach. I guess the Bannered Mare’s accommodations weren’t fine enough for them.”

“We’re going to have to coordinate well to get this done right,” she said, considering their approach. 

“Yes, lass, I’ll keep my eyes on you.” He agreed. After a moment, he added, “Won’t be hard.”

Aerlith scoffed sarcastically. “Are you trying to imply I’m a poor sneak? If so, blame yourself, since I’ve learned all I know from you.”

He laughed and knocked his shoulder against hers, leaning into her. “That sharp tongue will get you in trouble one day,” he growled in her ear. She shivered at the feeling of his breath on her neck. He was painfully close to her, teasing her, and she could hardly stand it. 

Aerlith pushed him away and smiled coyly at him. “Careful Bryn, you don’t want to get on my bad side.” The effort of remaining cool and collected was monumental. 

He grinned at her, looking playfully repentant. “All right, point taken.”

“Let’s get some rest.” Aerlith said. She turned away from him to her bedroll, smiling like an idiot.  _ He’s dreadful _ , was her last thought before she closed her eyes, dreaming of his wicked grin.

The next morning, Aerlith and Brynjolf patrolled Whiterun’s busy marketplace watching for the pair of Imperial nobles. The crowd was thick and loud today. She smiled. Perfect conditions. She looked around for Brynjolf, and saw him leaning nonchalantly against a wooden post, watching her closely. She gestured at him to keep his eyes on the crowd, and he fixed her with a hungry smile before returning to his work.  _ Shor’s Bones. He’s really a scoundrel. _

She focused back on the task at hand. The description from Maven had been a bit vague, but she saw no one who could be mistaken for a wealthy merchant among the throng. She settled herself against a wall and waited. She yawned and stretched. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to wait long.

Ten minutes later, Brynjolf caught her eye and pointed at the staircase to the Cloud District. Two richly dressed Imperial men were entering the market. Just as Maven described, they were rotund and had black hair and beards. She nodded to Brynjolf in silent agreement, and they moved as one, circling their marks. 

The men stopped in front of a weapons seller. Aerlith exchanged glances with Brynjolf, and they both crouched and crept toward the men silently. They met behind their mark’s backs, eyes meeting as they reached into pockets expertly, emptying them of gold, papers, and finally, the keys. Brynjolf grinned at Aerlith, and they both darted off in separate directions. No one in the marketplace saw a thing.

Aerlith waited at the rendezvous point, catching her breath. The thrill of a perfect crime still coursed through her. She crouched behind a bush in the Dragonsreach garden, trying to listen for Brynjolf over the ambient noise. Hands grasped her by the waist and she jumped, barely keeping her footing as she spun quickly and reached for her dagger. Brynjolf laughed quietly and looked pleased with himself. 

“Stop sneaking up on me like that!” She whispered harshly. “You’ll get yourself killed one of these days.” She shook her head. “Not to mention, we could get caught. Here,” she said, tossing him a backpack. “Get changed.” 

It was too risky to infiltrate Dragonsreach by conventional methods in broad daylight, but it had to be done. Maven was adamant that the goods must be recovered immediately after the keys were stolen. So they devised a plan that had Aerlith distracting the throne room with a tale of woe about dragons eating all her goats, while Brynjolf slipped into the upper level to complete the job. They needed to be in plain clothes to avoid attracting too much attention as they entered the heavily guarded keep. 

Aerlith had already changed into a blue commoner’s dress and simple boots. She shoved her dagger into the bag and started twisting her hair into a knot behind her head. Brynjolf stripped off his leathers and she caught a glimpse of his bare back before she turned away, blushing.  _ I need to stay focused. _

Once Brynjolf was dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, he said, “We clear on the plan, lass?” His eyes shone with excitement. Aerlith knew he loved a good heist.

She grinned at him. “All clear.” 

“Off you go then. And-”

“Be careful, lass,” she imitated him. “I know.”

He chuckled, taken aback. Aerlith stood up and casually walked up the great staircase to the keep. 

Aerlith took a deep breath and approached Jarl Balgruuf’s throne. He was lounging as he listened to his steward, but he saw Aerlith approaching. He waved his hand and an intimidating dark elf in steel armor stepped into her path, arms crossed. “What business do you have with the jarl?” She asked harshly. 

“Please,” Aerlith said, trying to sound helpless. “Please I must speak with him. My living is destroyed!”

“He’s a very busy man,” the woman said, uninterested in Aerlith’s plight. 

“That’s fine, Irileth,” called the jarl, gesturing for Aerlith to step forward. Aerlith curtsied clumsily to the elf and stepped past her. 

“What can I do for you, my child?” Balgruuf asked. He squinted at her. “You look awfully familiar.”

“Elva of Rorikstead, my jarl,” she bowed her head. “I’m Ennis’ adopted daughter.” The name Ennis she knew from Vex, who told her tales of her travels often. Aerlith hoped the man was insignificant enough not to ring alarm bells. “I’ve visited your city before on a...happier occasion.” She made a show of sighing and wiping her eyes on the apron of her dress. “You see, my father and I raise goats for a living. At least, we did, until a terrible, terrible thing happened.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Aerlith saw Brynjolf skirting the edge of the throne room, looking casual and calm as he made his way to the staircase behind the jarl’s throne.

“A dragon attacked Rorikstead, my lord. It breathed oceans of fire onto our crops and...and…” she sobbed a few times for effect, burying her face in her hands. When she looked up, she was pleased to see all eyes were on her. “And burned all our goats to ash!” Aerlith wailed dramatically, dropping to her knees. She clasped her hands as if praying. “Help us, please, my jarl,” she begged pitifully. Internally she rolled her eyes. The pay for this job had better be worth it. 

“A dragon, you say,” Balgruuf leaned forward and stroked his beard, his eyes thoughtful. He looked at her. “Yes, I will help you. On one condition.”

“Anything, my jarl,” she said, wiping an imaginary tear from her cheek. 

“My court wizard, Farengar has been investigating this dragon problem for some time now. If you will tell him your experience, I’ll give you enough gold to buy four new goats, and a little extra for your crops. What say you, Elva of Rorikstead?”

“Certainly, my jarl. I would be delighted to help.”

“Very well then.” He waved his hand again, and the steward came over to her, bowing. “Proventus Avenicci, miss,” he said in a nasal voice. He proffered a purse. “This should be plenty to get you and your father back on your feet.” He gestured to a door off the main hall. “Farengar is through there. Just tell him what you saw.”

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, batting her eyes prettily at the man. He flushed a little, then turned back to the jarl. 

Aerlith felt elated. Her trickery had certainly improved since joining the guild. She walked over to the room the steward had indicated. Inside, a hooded man sat at his desk, poring over a large tome. 

“Excuse me,” Aerlith said lightly. The man didn’t respond. She took a step into the room and said, loudly, “Hello!”

The man looked over his shoulder, then stood up. “What have I done to deserve this interruption?” He asked sternly. 

“Oh, my apologies your...eminence,” Aerlith feigned confusion. “How does one refer to a court wizard?”

“Farengar is fine,” he said exasperatedly. “What can I do for you, miss?”

“The jarl asked me to tell you about the dragon attack,” she said, bowing her head. 

Farengar sighed. He turned away from her and brought out a parchment and quill. “This is the third time this week,” he muttered. “I don’t need to hear from every bumpkin in the hold.”

“Pardon me sir,” Aerlith said, “But have there been many attacks in Whiterun of late?”

“Oh yes,” he said, making a note on the parchment. “Though not just in Whiterun. The nasty creatures seem to be rampant across Skyrim. Now, if you please, tell me what happened in your backwater village.”

Aerlith quickly related the tale to Farengar, who nodded and wrote it all down wordlessly. When she had finished, he said, “Thank you, miss. Now, I really must get back to work.”

“Of course,” Aerlith said, watching him place the parchment bearing her story into a large folio, so full of pages it was near bursting. All those pages represented people who had experienced a dragon attack? She hadn’t spent much time above ground lately, but if the problem was that bad, surely she would have seen something by now. 

But it didn’t concern her. She walked out of Dragonsreach victorious, eager to share her spoils with Brynjolf. 

She spotted him right away when she entered The Bannered Mare. He was sitting at a table beneath the loft, drinking deeply from a flagon. Grinning, Aerlith strode over to him. Brynjolf looked up at her as she drew near. He smiled as his eyes drifted down her figure, which was accentuated by the dress she wore. But she didn’t care about his impertinence at the moment. 

“I got a large purse from the jarl for my trouble,” she said gleefully, plopping herself down next to him. “How did it go for you?”

“No trouble. It’s always easier to break into something when you have the key,” his eyes glinted at her in the candlelight. 

“Well done,” she said. She threw the purse onto the table. “Our bonus. Refreshments are on me tonight.” She waved at the barmaid and ordered a bottle of fine wine, counting out twenty septims. 

“I enjoyed watching your little show for the jarl,” Brynjolf teased. “I don’t think any man would be able to rebuff such a pitiful woman.”

The maid returned with the wine, and Aerlith poured herself a generous cup.  _ Not too fast, though _ , she reminded herself.  _ Hold it together _ . She sipped the sweet red liquid, savoring the taste. “It’s true what they say about Balgruuf. He’s an extremely generous man. Handsome, too.”

Brynjolf laughed. “Getting ideas about him, are you?”

“No, but perhaps his court wizard,” she joked. She sat back in her chair and watched the patrons going about their separate lives, eating, drinking, dancing. “It is nice to be back here,” she mused. “The Bannered Mare is the best inn I’ve stayed at by a long shot.”

“Keerava will have your head.”

Aerlith waved him off and took another drink, remembering her first time in Whiterun. Everything had been so different then. She’d been desperate and afraid, barely clinging onto life. The priestess of Kynareth took one look at her and marched her over to The Bannered Mare for a hot meal. Aerlith couldn’t believe the diversity of the bustling city; traders from all over Tamriel crowded the streets, and inside the inn, characters of all shapes and sizes gathered to share stories and drinks. It was a far-cry from isolated Falkreath. 

“Have you spent much time in Whiterun, lass?” Brynjolf asked, calling her back to the present. 

“Just a few weeks,” she replied. “I was here before I came to Riften and joined the guild.”

“And before that?” he prompted. 

Aerlith shook her head. “Not so fast. You won’t get me to spill my secrets so easily.”

Brynjolf smirked at her and offered her the bottle. “Drink up.”

She gasped with exaggerated offense. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She gazed at him, noticing his sneaky smile. 

“Or you could just enlighten me, Arielle. Your past is a mystery I’m dying to solve.”

“Get used to disappointment, Bryn.”

Brynjolf sighed and took a drink. “You are a frustrating one, aren’t you, lass?”

“You have no idea.”

“So tell me.”

She leaned over the table and smiled up at him. “Why don’t we focus on the present? We’ve just pulled off a perfect heist, with perks. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, though, I could do with some food.”

“I’ll get it,” Aerlith said. They both stood at the same time, and found themselves standing face to face, barely an inch apart in the snug corner. Aerlith felt her heart start its traitorous racing as she looked up into his face. “What do you want?” She asked breathlessly. Brynjolf looked confused, and he opened his mouth to say something. “I meant to eat!” She squeaked. She cursed her unruly heart. 

“What’s got you so up in a tizzy, lass?” Brynjolf said, a grin spreading slowly across his face. “I’ve never seen you so worked up.” She blushed, willing herself not to think about him, his face, his eyes, his lips, his voice.  _ I’ll go mad _ , she thought. But she couldn’t look away, didn’t want to walk away from him. He smiled fully, watching her cheeks turn from pink to red. “You don’t look well, Arielle. Maybe I should take you to bed.” He took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles softly, his hot breath sending shockwaves through her. He looked into her eyes, playfully concerned, but his mouth stuck in that sly smile. His fingers brushed her waist, running down her ribcage to her hip, where they stayed, barely touching her, a gentle invitation to more. 

“I, erm,” Aerlith tried to speak, but found herself at a loss for words. “This is...I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?” He asked, sliding his hand around to the small of her back and pulling her a bit closer. 

Aerlith finally found her voice. “I don’t get it. What changed, Bryn?” She looked up at him questioningly. 

“Nothing lass,” he said softly, his eyes drifting to her lips. “As far as I know, you’ve always been beautiful.” 

“And you’ve always been a rake.” 

“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled and brought his hand to her face, tracing her jawline with his thumb lightly. He looked into her eyes, and she saw the heat there, the intensity making her breath catch. Brynjolf smiled at her reaction, then ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She shivered. “May I kiss you, lass?” he asked, his voice a low growl. 

Unable to speak again, Aerlith nodded, and he lowered his lips to hers. He dropped both hands to her waist and pulled her close. The insanity of the moment still had her mind racing, but Aerlith’s body seemed to respond instinctively, pressing into him and kissing him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself to him. 

She felt his tongue brush her lower lip and she opened her mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His stubbly beard scraped her cheeks, but she didn’t mind the pain. She was transported by the feeling of him. He traced his hands up her spine and wound them in her pale hair, tugging slightly. She gasped at the sensation and he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, their gasping breaths mingling. 

He cupped her face again and looked down at her, wicked grin in place. “Well, lass” he said. “You’re turning out to be quite the prize.” 

Aerlith blushed furiously. “Don’t say another word,” she said, breathless but stalwart. “Or I’ll stick you with my dagger.”

Brynjolf laughed. “Sit down. I’ll get the food,” he said happily, and walked off to find the barmaid, a new bounce in his step.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very challenging for me to write. The story is set in my mind, but the small details keep shifting as I get better ideas. Just a warning that there is a bit of sexual content at the end of the chapter, but it's not super explicit. I hope you enjoy!

_ I was searching for something _

_ As I watched you run _

_ I was sad when you said you never really wanted some _

_ Were you looking for someone _

_ When I watched you go _

_ Are you mad because I don’t know what you used me for? _

_ Amerika, Young the Giant _

The next morning, Aerlith carefully avoided meeting Brynjolf’s eyes as they packed up to go. She smiled at his jokes, kept her mood cheerful, and suffered quietly from acute anticipation. Their time in Whiterun seemed to exist in a sweaty fever dream, manifesting an ache in her head and heart.  _ Or it could just be the hangover _ , she thought darkly as they exited The Bannered Mare and made for the city gates. Her limbs crackled with electricity as she saddled her horse and mounted up, following Brynjolf as they cantered through the misty hills of Whiterun. 

They made good time, reaching the border of The Rift at midday. Aerlith nudged her horse and came to ride alongside Brynjolf. “Do you have water, by chance?” she asked. 

“Aye, lass,” he pulled a waterskin from his hip and offered it to her. Their hands touched when she took it, and Aerlith shivered as sparks jumped from his fingers to hers. 

She sipped water and stared straight ahead. “Arielle,” Brynjolf said, drawing her eyes. She capped his waterskin and held it out. “Nah, keep it. Let’s break here for a moment.” He guided his horse off the road and jumped to the ground, then turned to offer her help down. 

Aerlith raised her eyebrows. “That’s the first time anyone’s offered me their hand in years.” But she took his hand and allowed him to balance her as she dismounted. His other hand went to her waist and he lowered her slowly in front of him. 

“It’s just an excuse to touch you,” he said with a sly expression. He leaned down and kissed her, tugging at her to bring her close. Aerlith melted into him, and grasped his shoulders to steady herself. The kiss was calmer than it had been the night before, but when he released her, she still caught her breath shakily. Brynjolf stepped away and rummaged in his saddleback, retrieving two apples. He tossed one to her.

Aerlith caught the fruit and held it in her hands, her hunger eclipsed by a sudden surge of anxiety. “Can I ask you something, Bryn?”

“Anything.”

She swallowed nervously. “It’s just...what is going to happen when we get back to the guild?” She looked up at him, hoping the vulnerability didn’t show in her eyes. 

“We turn over the goods to Del, we get paid, we drink and be merry,” he chuckled. “And we wait for the next job from Maven like the good little lackeys we are.”

If he was being deliberately obtuse she couldn’t tell. She sighed. “I meant that things have, uh, shifted between us.” He looked at her with a vaguely confused expression and she blushed. “You  _ know _ what I mean, Bryn. Don’t make me punch you.”

“Don’t get yourself too heated, lass. That’s my job.” He smiled and bit his apple. “We don’t have to say anything. Life’s too short for long explanations.”

_ There it is _ . He’d brushed her off like snow on his shoulder. But while he had the luxury of remaining aloof, she couldn’t imagine it would be as simple for her. The women of the guild received merciless ribbing at the first hint of a romantic entanglement. She’d seen it first hand with Tonilia. The fence, who worked tirelessly to help the guild make its living, was teased and called all manner of disrespectful names by her brothers in arms.. Brynjolf was let off the hook, his responsibility in the matter ignored completely. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather nobody knew about our indiscretion,” Aerlith sniffed. She stuffed the apple into her pocket and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “I’ve only just managed to gain some standing in the guild, despite Thrynn sabotaging me at every turn. If anyone saw me with you, all my work would be for nothing.”

“Indiscretion, eh?” Brynjolf said slowly. “Is that what you think of me?” Aerlith watched as his eyes grew shiny. Maybe her eyes were deceiving her, but she swore his lips twitched.

“Are you laughing at me?” Aerlith demanded. Brynjolf gave up hiding it and grinned widely. “Care to let me in on the joke?”

“You have a strange approach to life, Arielle. It’s almost like you're not a Nord at all.”

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He stepped closer, tossing his apple core into the brush. He took her shoulders and stared at her straight. “I like you, lass. Isn’t that enough of an explanation?”

“Not really, since we had about as much between us as there is between you and Rune until last night.”

“Arielle,” he said flatly. “Let go of your apron strings, would you? We’re living in Skyrim, not in the court of Cyrodiil.”

Aerlith surged with anger. She pulled herself out of his grasp roughly and said, “Just leave me alone, then, if I’m too childish for you. I never asked for this.” 

“Lass, I-” he started.

“Don’t bother. I’ll make my own way back to Riften. Turning her back on him, she hoisted herself astride her horse and kicked it into a gallop, leaving him behind. She thought she heard him calling after her but she didn’t stop to listen. 

Aerlith reached the gates of Riften in record time, her horse huffing and sweaty from the effort. She dismounted and stroked the beast’s neck. “I’m sorry, friend. I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” she whispered. She commenced untacking the horse, wiping him down and cooling his steaming flanks. A stablehand came by and offered to take over. Aerlith thanked him gratefully and handed him ten septims for his trouble. 

She rushed in the gates and through the town until she reached the graveyard. But she stopped short of the guild’s entrance, heart pounding. She sat down next to a grave, rubbing her hands on her cheeks roughly.  _ How could I be so foolish, taking up with him like that? _ Aerlith knew his reputation as a flirt. She also knew that honor among thieves was a flighty thing, and yet she allowed herself to become compromised. But what stung the most was Brynjolf’s disregard for her feelings. After all they’d been through, she thought she could trust him, at least as a friend. The thought made her laugh cynically. She might be able to trust him in a fight, but apparently the battles waged between men and women were more treacherous than bows and daggers.

Aerlith missed Karliah terribly. She sorely needed a true friend, one who would keep her secrets. She stood suddenly. Why not go to her then? Nightingale Hall was just a few hours walk from where she stood now.  _ Perfect. _ The last place on earth she wanted to be was down in the cistern, or the Flagon, or anywhere near the vulgar words of men. 

  
  


The standing stone came into view and Aerlith sighed with relief. She hurried up the path to the inconspicuous cavern entrance and slipped inside. Once she entered the hall proper, she looked around, surprised at the amount of work Karliah had already completed on the place. Sconces and candles were lit around the hall, and some furniture had been righted and arranged. A merry fire crackled in the round hearth, and Karliah bent over it, stirring something delicious smelling in the pot. 

Aerlith grinned and started to sneak across the room, hoping to startle her friend. But she only got halfway there before Karliah said, “I can hear you, Arielle.” 

Aerlith stood and sighed. “It’s not fair. Your hearing is unbelievable.”

“Elf’s ears,” Karliah said wisely, tapping her finger on one of her admittedly impressive ears. She strode to Aerlith smiling, and pulled her into a hug. “You look exhausted. Come and sit by the fire.” 

The two women walked back to the hearth and Aerlith sat down in a wooden chair and looked around at the hall. “You’ve made such an improvement to this place already,” she said, reaching out to warm her hands with the flames. “And whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.”

“It’s chicken stew with vegetables and a bit of frost mirriam for taste. The bloody herbs in this province are completely tasteless, but it’s better than plain salt.”

Aerlith smiled. “How did you get to be so refined? Weren’t you a fugitive for a decade?”

“Refined is a funny word for it. I just like food to taste good,” Karliah replied and chuckled. They were quiet for a moment, then she asked, “How is everything at the guild?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know. I left on a job right away, and I just returned a few hours ago. I haven’t even been back there yet.”

Karliah narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t even stop in to get your pay? Did the job go south?”

Aerlith shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Not exactly. But I did tell Brynjolf about your decision,” she said, trying to distract Karliah from  _ that _ line of questioning. 

“Did he say anything?” The elf asked softly. 

“He wanted to know if you were leaving the guild. I’d like to know too.”

Karliah covered the stew pot with its lid, then stood, stretching her slender arms above her head. Finally she looked down at Aerlith. “The guild took good care of me when I first came to Skyrim. They sheltered me and taught me to fend for myself. And Gallus...well, he made the guild into my family, my home.” Karliah looked down. “It’s not just that his memory permeates the guild hall. He was what kept me tethered there, what kept me loyal. My heart is still divided on whether I should commit myself again.”

Aerlith stayed quiet. She wanted to protest, to prove to Karliah that she and Brynjolf needed her there as much as Gallus ever did, but she knew it wouldn’t ring true. “I find myself more drawn to Lady Nocturnal now,” Karliah continued. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I think I am needed here for a while longer.”

“You’re still righting old wrongs,” Aerlith whispered. 

Karliah nodded, smiling sadly. “That’s how I see it.” She reached over and squeezed Aerlith’s hand. “The guild may have to manage without me for a while, but I’m glad you’re here. Stew?” she offered. 

“Please.” They ate in companionable silence for a while. Aerlith thought of Brynjolf, and wondered if she would end up feeling like Karliah if anything happened to him. Was she loyal to the guild? Or was she loyal to her mentor? The thought made her angry again, remembering his tactless words earlier. 

“Would you like me to accompany you back to Riften?” Karliah asked when their bowls were empty. 

“Erm, I thought I might sleep here, if you have no objection.”

“That’s fine.” Karliah sounded suspicious. “Arielle, there’s something you’re not telling me. Why didn’t you go back to the guild today?”

Aerlith groaned. “It’s just those  _ men _ . They’re dreadful, Karliah.”

The elf’s brow furrowed. “Did something else happen? Was it Thrynn again?”

“No. I haven’t seen him after he assaulted me.”

Karliah sighed. “Are we to continue with the guessing games, or are you going to tell me?” 

“Fine,” Aerlith grumbled. “It’s Brynjolf. He... _ we  _ had taken a job together in Whiterun. Things got out of hand. The excitement of a good crime, you know.”

“Go on,” Karliah said patiently. 

“I let him kiss me.” Aerlith blushed and looked away. 

“Oh,” Karliah breathed softly. The silence stretched between them for a few moments. Aerlith burned with embarrassment. Then she heard Karliah make a small, stifled noise. She looked at the elf, who had her hand clamped over her mouth, holding back laughter. 

“Not you too, please. I’ve been laughed at enough today.”

“I’m sorry,” Karliah said, grinning. “Is it evil to say I’ve been expecting this to happen?” When Aerlith just looked at her with frustration, Karliah continued, “Oh, come now. Besides the fact that Brynjolf has always been a flirt, I’m sorry to say that you made your interest in him quite apparent.”

“What?” Aerlith blushed again, getting riled.

“There, you see? Your cheeks give you away every time,” Karliah giggled. “It’s not that bad. Everyone knows he fancies you too.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine then.” Aerlith crossed her arms. “Or it would be if this whole thing weren’t guaranteed to make me the laughingstock of the guild.”

Karliah nodded, sobered by the thought. “You may be right. But…” She grinned at Aerlith conspiratorially. “You deserve to have some fun, don’t you? You don’t have to be perfect every second.”

“I can’t allow myself to be carefree. If I let myself be the center of attention too much...well, that would be bad.”

“Why? And anyway, you’ve already made a name for yourself in the guild, there’s no hiding that.” Karliah smiled and stood up. “Come on. I’m taking you back now. I won’t allow you to hide from Brynjolf here.”

Aerlith looked at her friend numbly. She wished she could just tell the truth. Tell Karliah that she was a fugitive and wanted nothing more than to fade into the background. She could be safe, and keep those she cared for safe as well, as long as she wasn’t a target for gossip. “Fine,” Aerlith sighed. “Let’s go.”

  
  


It was well into night when Aerlith made it back to the graveyard. She stopped in front of the shadowmarked coffin, steeling herself.  _ Just get your pay from Delvin and go to bed. Everything will have blown over in the morning _ . She pushed the button and waited as it retreated into the wall, taking deep breaths. 

She walked into the quiet cistern, looking around warily for Brynjolf or Thrynn. She saw neither, so she hastened over to the Flagon quietly. She found Delvin seated at his normal table, drinking ale and chatting with Tonilia. 

“You back then?” he asked when he saw her. “Brynjolf handed in your haul five hours ago. Where’ve you been?” He looked at her curiously. Aerlith could feel Tonilia staring at her as well, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I had an errand,” Aerlith said, trying to sound confident. “I just want my pay, please.”

“Aye,” Delvin said, draining his tankard. “Bryn’s got it. He’s lookin’ for you anyway.”

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “Fine. Where is he?”

“Training room,” Tonilia answered. Aerlith looked at her and saw an expression of concern and curiosity in the woman’s eyes. 

“Thanks. See you later.” Aerlith walked away, feeling puzzled. She walked to the training room, preparing her words in her mind. She would walk in, get her pay, and walk out. No funny business, no flirting, no anger. Just business. She smiled.  _ I can handle this _ . 

When she entered the room, Brynjolf was drawing his bow back. He released the arrow and it flew wide of the target, hitting the stone wall with a clank and clattering to the floor. “Damn,” he muttered softly. He looked over and saw her. “There you are.”

“My pay, please,” Aerlith said archly, extending her hand. 

“Not so fast, lass,” he said, setting his bow down and crossing his arms. “I’ve something to discuss with you first.”

Aerlith’s heart sank. Of course there was something. “I just want the money. I’m not looking for anything else.”

Brynjolf chuckled. “What’s that expression about protesting too much?” But his face quickly turned serious. “It’s not about you and me, lass. You may want to sit down.” He gestured to a training chest. Aerlith nodded slowly and sat down. “I got some news when I returned to the Flagon today. Delvin said Thrynn came back, collected his things, then left again, still mad as a hornet.”

“Good riddance,” Aerlith spat. 

“Aye. But that’s not it. Delvin also said that the bandit brought two men with him into the Flagon. Strangers, no one we know. They were armed to the teeth, and they were asking after a blonde young lady with gray eyes.”

Aerlith’s heart sank. “What?” 

“They knew your name and all, lass. Thrynn had been wild drunk in the Bee and Barb, talking loudly about how you spurned him. They offered him a pretty penny to lead them down here, and he did.”

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this. Talos help me, I-”

Brynjolf cut her off. “Why are these men hunting you, Arielle?”

“I don’t know,” she said, panic rising in her chest, filling her lungs like frigid water. It wasn’t a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the whole truth.

He saw through it immediately. “You do know, lass.” He stepped toward her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Out with it. We’re none of us pure as driven snow, but you must disclose if you’ve got a price on your head.”

“I really don’t know,” she said. “But I do know that they’ve been following me since I came to Skyrim. Maybe even before.” 

“How can you not know? Surely you committed some crime?”

“No. Not before joining the guild.”

Brynjolf ran a hand through his hair. “Arielle, you need to tell me. I know your past is a closely guarded secret, but this could become a problem for the guild if we don’t handle it.”

Numbly, Aerlith said, “That’s just what Vilkas said. Funny.”

Brynjolf seized her face in his hands. “Snap out of it, lass.” He sat beside her and took her hands. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have insulted you. But we’ve bigger fish to fry at the moment. Please.” 

Aerlith looked into his face and saw fierce honesty there. He held her hands gently, his thumb stroking her palm in a comforting gesture. She sighed. “All right.” She stood up and paced in front of him. “The men first found me in Falkreath. That’s where I lived when I came to Skyrim. They asked after me and the jarl was going to give me to them for the money, so I ran. Then they came to Whiterun, and the Companions gave me a choice of leaving or turning myself in. They thought I was a criminal. But I’m not,” she said fiercely. 

“Well, you are, lass,” Brynjolf started to say, but shut his mouth when Aerlith shot him a glance. 

“I wasn’t. Before I came to Skyrim, I lived with my parents on their farm in County Bruma. I was nineteen when our farm was destroyed and my parents taken. They didn’t get to me because I was out making deliveries that day.” She felt a sob rise in her throat, but angrily squashed it. “I don’t know what they wanted, or why they took my parents rather than just kill them. I was sent to Falkreath after that, to live with my cousin and work for the jarl.” Brynjolf stayed quiet, so she said, “That’s it.”

“I have questions,” he said. 

“Fine.”

“First off, you say they kidnapped your parents without motive. But there must be one. Did they want a ransom? Were your parents rich or important in politics?”

“No. We were simple farmers, and I don’t believe we had much money or valuables,” she replied. 

“Also, Delvin said the men referred to you by a different name.”

“Yes. Arielle is an alias, but that’s not really important.”

Brynjolf beckoned her to sit beside him, but she didn’t move. He sighed and stood up, walking over to her. “It’s important to me, lass.” His voice was deep and gentle. “I’m grateful to you for telling me your tale. Whoever these men are, we’ll find a way to dissuade them.”

Aerlith felt her resolve melting under his kind words.  _ Damnit, _ she thought.  _ Why does he have to be so fucking nice? _ “I don’t want anyone else put in danger on my account.” She said, cold sadness mingling with her anger. 

“So you’re going to handle this yourself? Don’t you think that’s a bit reckless?” Brynjolf crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Bryn.”

“I know you are.” 

“So that’s settled then. I’ll leave the guild until the problem is solved.” She sighed and regarded Brynjolf with tired eyes. “Think you can manage without me for a while?”

He pressed his lips into a line. “No, lass. I don’t think I can. If you leave I’ll be plagued with worry. The guild needs you.” He came close to her and took her hand. “As for me, I want you.”

Looking up at him now, with his soft green eyes and worried expression, she could almost imagine that he truly cared for her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his rough cheek. “It can’t be helped. I’ve been running from it my whole life, and now it’s caught me at last.” She smiled. “I’m truly grateful for all you’ve done for me. The guild, I mean,” she corrected herself quickly. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that it was him that made her despair at leaving. 

Before she could move, Brynjolf gathered her into his arms, pressing her tightly to his chest. “I can’t let you go. I know I’m an idiot, but I feel as though I’ve just got hold of you. You’ve always been important to me, Arielle.”

His words were muffled by his heartbeat in her ears. Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Aerlith.”

“What?” he said, shifting so that she could look up at him. 

“My name. It’s Aerlith,” she said, blinking to keep the tears at bay. “Did you mean that? That I’m...important to you?”

“Aye, lass. I don’t quite know what to make of it,” he replied, grinning at her. For once, it wasn’t a sly grin, nor a wicked one. “You’re something else.” 

She smiled, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t know what to say,” she softly, resting her head against his chest again. 

“Say that you’ll let me help you. Say that you’ll stay.”

Warmth flooded through her veins as though she’d just downed a shot of liquor. She relaxed into his arms, allowing herself to enjoy his embrace. It seemed unreasonable to think anything had changed in his mind since their angry conversation earlier, but Aerlith found it difficult to let go of the lovely feeling she got when he said she was  _ important _ . Helplessness was a grave sin in her mind, but when he offered to help her, she felt stronger. Their history together was a tapestry of violence, crime and misunderstanding, but the thread underneath was colored with trust, she could see that now. However harshly life tried to pit them against one another, it always failed. 

“Brynjolf, I’ll stay,” she said, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.

He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, pulling her into him. He cradled the nape of her neck with his hand gently, like he was holding something very precious. Aerlith lost herself in the kiss, running her hands up his back to stroke his hair (surprisingly soft), then down again to cup his jaw. She stroked his stubbled cheek and he sighed into her mouth. 

His hands traveled down her body until they found the curve of her backside, and without warning he lifted her up and set her down on the training chest. They were now at eye level, and Aerlith looked at him, breathless from the kiss but wary. Brynjolf stood between her thighs, looking at her with a mixture of wonder and hunger. “What am I going to do with you?” He chuckled, twirling a loose strand of her hair in his fingers. “A mystery wrapped in a pretty little package finally lies open before me. It’s enough to make your head spin.”

Aerlith silently agreed with him. Her head was indeed spinning. “I resent the metaphor,” she said, smiling. 

Brynjolf kissed her again, lightly. “There goes that tongue again, poking holes in my pretty speech,” he whispered. He lifted her chin with his fingers and pressed kisses down her neck. She shivered, his lips sending waves of heat through her. He raised his head, fixing her with a wicked hot smile. “I can’t wait to see what else you can do with it...Aerlith.”

The name sounded so strange on his tongue. A relic of her past colliding with the present in one word. The way Brynjolf said it was tinged with sweet tenderness, and Aerlith pulled him close, kissing him deeply to try and taste it. His tongue stroked against hers, his hands squeezed her thighs. She moaned softly as heat began to travel up and down her limbs. She felt Brynjolf smile against her lips. He slid his hands up her hips and pulled her even closer, their bodies occupying the same space. His hips ground into hers, and she moaned again, louder, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. He abandoned her mouth to kiss from her ear to her collarbone, and Aerlith said breathlessly, “What are you doing to me?”

Brynjolf chuckled darkly, kissing her earlobe. “Bringing out the wanton lass you always had inside.” He pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes. 

Aerlith scowled at him. “I am not wanton,” she said emphatically. 

Grinning, Brynjolf trailed his hand up her calf and rested it on her knee. “I could see it behind those lovely silver eyes the first time we met,” he said, slowly running his hand higher. “You’ve a cold fire in your soul, lass.” His hand reached the top of her thigh and paused, teasing her slightly through her trousers. He kissed her and brought his hand to rest right between her legs. “I want to make that fire burn hot again,” he whispered against her lips. 

Aerlith wanted so badly to reprimand him for his impertinence, but his hand was rubbing her between her legs and his touch was making it hard to breathe. He kissed her again and elicited another moan from her.

“Do you like that, lass?” He asked in a low rough voice. She nodded, eyes closed as he undid her belt and slipped his hand inside. His fingers grazed her most sensitive spot and she moaned at the sudden pleasure, tilting her head back. He kissed her jaw and bit down lightly on the place where it met her neck, his fingers finding a steady rhythm against her body that made her go weak against him. She opened her eyes and saw his face, his eyes burning with heated passion, his mouth in a half open smile as he watched her. He increased the pressure of his fingers and she called out to the divines, louder than she’d meant to. Brynjolf grinned with satisfaction. 

Aerlith felt the muscles low in her belly begin to contract and release, and waves of dizzying pleasure flowed over her. She ground her hips against his hand without thinking, kissing him to muffle the wayward moans that escaped her. All of a sudden, her body clenched in a great surge of pleasurable energy, and Aerlith thought she could see the cosmos flickering about behind her eyelids as it washed over her. She breathed out heavily, her body going limp.  _ So that’s what it feels like _ , she thought dazedly.

Brynjolf gently held her up, kissing her deeply as her intense pleasure ebbed into aching sweetness. She pulled away. “I can hardly breathe,” she sighed, looking up at him. Her face felt hot, and the way he was looking at her, like he wanted to eat her, made her blush more. “Bryn, you bastard,” she said, kissing him again. She stood up, feeling unsteady. 

“Feeling quite well, Aerlith?” he asked, amusement in his eyes. 

She shoved him lightly. “I could use a drink.”

“Aye, lass, you certainly whet my appetite with that performance,” he said with a sly grin. “But if it’s drink you want, that’s what we’ll do.”


	5. Chapter 5

_ Is it all so very simple, _

_ And horribly complex? _

_ You suffer in a thimble  _

_ And there’s nothing coming next. _

_ 40 Mark Strasse, The Shins _

Aerlith found herself sitting at a table in the Flagon, the usual sounds and smells of thieves surrounding her. The post-pleasure daze was starting to wear off. She looked around for Brynjolf, but her eyes caught Vex’s, who said something to Delvin and they both shot her a concerned look. She glanced around the room and found that many eyes were on her. 

No matter the true motivation behind her guild mates’ attention, all Aerlith could feel was pity. She didn’t need to know what they were thinking; she could imagine it just as well.  _ I am no longer worthy. I am just a weak, powerless girl.  _

She hung her head, resting it on one hand. Aerlith knew this feeling well. When she first came to Skyrim, she’d been a stranger and a helpless ward of the jarl. The other servants looked at her with pity. Maybe she should have appreciated it, but it felt like an insult. Pity was the game of the beggar, and Aerlith refused to see herself as such. Even when she had no skills, no knowledge with which to protect herself, her sense of dignity and autonomy chafed against the bonds of helplessness like a prisoner against her irons.

Aerlith looked around for a drink, but couldn’t find one. Now more than ever, she craved the oblivion of drunkenness. She wished her vision would blur enough to obscure the reality that surrounded her. 

As if on cue, Brynjolf appeared, bearing a bottle of wine, a loaf of bread, and a wedge of eidar cheese. “All right, lass,” he said, setting the bounty before her. He sat down and uncorked the wine smoothly, grinning at her. “Drink up.”

Aerlith took the cup he offered and drank deeply, draining it in one gulp. She reached for the bottle to pour herself another glass. 

“Easy there,” Brynjolf said. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

“Right now,” Aerlith said, averting her eyes and tearing off a hunk of bread. She felt unable to continue the intimacy of their last moment together given the atmosphere. In fact, she felt loath to say anything at all. She feared that allowing words to escape her would start the flow of frustrated tears. Instead, Aerlith tore into the bread, scarfing it down with as much aggression as she could manage. She sliced the cheese and swallowed it without tasting. That done, she grabbed the wine bottle and poured herself another cup. 

“So,” Brynjolf said, sipping his wine with leisure as he watched her, “You seem distressed, lass.” He reached across the table and lifted her face to look at him. “Is that the desperate look of a woman on the run? Or...is that my doing?” 

Aerlith moved away from his touch, covering the place on her jaw where his hand had been with her own. If she started talking now, about her past, or about their...well, whatever they were to each other now, she was assured to show weakness. With the guild watching, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She cleared her throat and looked up at him, feigning confidence with all her might. 

“You’re very presumptuous, Bryn.” She smiled coyly. “How can you be sure I didn’t fake it?” Aerlith had heard Vex talk this way before, and absorbed the foreign knowledge as she did with any that might get her out of a bind one day. Navigating this delicate moment was no different than negotiating with a contact, or scamming a mark. Use whatever means necessary to survive. 

Brynjolf laughed. “You forget, lass, I’ve been with more than my share of women. I can tell the difference between what’s real and false. Besides, women aren’t as good at ‘faking it’ as they think they are.”

“Perhaps I’m just the best you’ve encountered thus far,” Aerlith quipped, reaching for the wine bottle to pour herself another glass. She felt tipsy already, and knew that she might be pushing it. But the anxiety in her chest would not abate, and she craved the respite wine provided.

“Indeed,” Brynjolf replied. Aerlith looked back at him, meeting his eyes with all the self-assured fire she could muster. He quirked his eyebrow up and leaned across the table toward her. “Aerlith,” he whispered, “You know I care for you,”

“Don’t...use that name around here,” she whispered, looking around. But maybe it was hopeless. The guild must know already. 

“Fine, but I’m not buying this act. When I walked over here I could tell your thoughts were a hundred miles away. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Aerlith shook her head and crossed her arms. “You’re mistaking lust for intimacy, Brynjolf,” she lied through her teeth. “I thought you of all people understood that keeping some safe distance is necessary.” She cast her eyes around the room, hoping that no one was watching them. The last thing she needed was her guildmates witnessing their quarrel.

“Safe distance?” Brynjolf’s question came out a bit roughly, and she looked at him. His brow was furrowed and his eyes questioning. “I taught you that, lass. But not to apply to me; that was meant for marks or clients!”

“I guess I’m not such a great student then,” Aerlith shot back.

“If that’s truly how you feel, lass,” Brynjolf sighed. 

“It is,” she replied shortly, taking another gulp of wine. “Can we go back to having fun now?” She grabbed his cup and poured him more wine, smiling prettily. “I know it’s what you want.” She sat back and sipped her own wine, attempting her best flirtatious expression. It seemed that lately, she was play-acting more than she was being herself. 

Brynjolf's face was unreadable. Aerlith cursed internally.  _ Why does it have to be him?  _ Brynjolf knew her too well. Perhaps with another man, she would have succeeded easily in her inexperienced attempt at seduction. But he was the one who taught her the basics of deception and persuasion. However, Aerlith was determined. If Brynjolf insisted on being involved with her, he would play by her rules.

The silence became uncomfortable, but Aerlith did not relent. She sipped her wine and picked at the food, playing casual. When she finished her cup, she went to pour herself another. Finally, Brynjolf spoke. “I can’t pretend I’m disappointed, lass.”

“Whatever does that mean?” Aerlith asked, a bit taken aback. 

He sighed. “You say you want to ‘have fun’. I want that too.” 

“Good,” she replied slowly. 

“But isn’t that obvious, lass? I’d have to be insane to turn you down, after what I’ve already seen. But I do wonder if your heart’s really in it.”

Aerlith squirmed under his intense stare. “I’ve told you the truth. I don’t go in for all this... _ trust, _ ” she said, spitting the word as if it were poison. Her resolve was beginning to crack as the wine coursed fuzzily though her. Unable to stop herself, she said, “I don’t love you, nor you me, Bryn. You pretend to have pretty feelings for me, just like…” she trailed off, anxiety jolting her momentarily as memories of Thrynn and Siddgeir swam in her vision. “Like all men do. But I know what you want.”

Brynjolf looked dismayed. “I don’t take that which isn’t freely given. If I’ve overstepped, lass, I’m truly sorry.” 

She put up her hands. “Don’t,” she said darkly. Aerlith saw pain in his expression, and it confused her. 

His eyes pleaded with her.  “Talk to me,” he said softly. 

“I do not want to talk.”

“Aer-Arielle, look, I told you you’re important to me. I care for you. I don’t want to see you hurt. None of that was a lie.” 

Aerlith didn’t respond. If she did, he would have heard the tears she was holding back. Instead, she sat in frozen silence, her thoughts circling uselessly.  _ Maybe they are not wrong. I am a pitiable person. I am not strong.  _

“Lass,” Brynjolf said, his voice low. “Let’s leave, yes? Maybe this conversation would be best without an audience.”

Shame made her cheeks burn. The pity in his voice was unmistakable. “Fine,” she said quietly, her eyes still on the ground. “Go and I’ll follow you.”

He stood and began to walk away. Aerlith watched him retreat, and saw Vex call out to him. Brynjolf waved her off, continuing out of the bar and into the cistern. Immediately, Vex’s eyes shifted to Aerlith. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, Aerlith poured herself more wine. With Brynjolf gone, a reckless desperation was taking hold of her. Vex would not look away, so Aerlith got up and walked over to where the woman was sitting with Delvin, bringing her cup and the bottle with her. 

“Here,” Aerlith said, placing the bottle defiantly in front of Vex. “Finish this for me, would you?”

If Vex was surprised, it didn’t register in her cat-like eyes. She guffawed. “Got a prior engagement?”

Aerlith smirked. “A job. I’m headed topside. Enjoy.” She nodded at Delvin and walked away, exiting the Flagon in the opposite direction from Brynjolf, into the Ratway. The only thing on her mind was escape. She had money from the Whiterun job, and she intended to use it to drink and hide at the Bee and Barb. 

Aerlith strolled along the darkened passages, not really caring if she encountered a ruffian. At this point, she’d relish the chance to stick someone with her dagger. Unfortunately, the voice that called out to her in the darkness was not the voice of a common criminal. 

“Where are you off to, then?” Brynjolf said, stepping out the shadows in front of her. He crossed his arms and looked down at her.

“Damn it, Bryn. I don’t need a babysitter,” Aerlith growled, stumbling back against the mildewed stone wall. 

“We aren’t done talking, lass.”

“I have nothing to say.”

Brynjolf stepped to her, towering over her. “Aerlith, you’ve told me several times today that you’re not a child, and I know you aren’t. But at the moment, lass, you’re acting very petulant, and I have a mind to put you over my knee and spank you.”

Aerlith laughed, a loud and sloppy sound that echoed through the tunnel. “You wish, you bloody pervert!” 

“By the divines, lass, I wish you could see that I just want to help you. But you’re too drunk or too stubborn to realize it! You’re in a right mess, with mercenaries chasing you across the province. Please, Aerlith, I need you to fight this, not run away for Talos’ sake!” Brynjolf grasped her shoulders and gave her a light shake. 

Aerlith twisted away from him. “I  _ am _ fighting! Since I’ve come to Skyrim, I’ve encountered nothing but drunks, ruffians, and vile men who want to fight me for one reason or another. My money, my life and my body! I’ve fought for all of them again and again.” Aerlith turned away from him, feeling tears coming on. “I’m so fucking  _ tired _ of it, Bryn. I’ve tried to be vigilant, I’ve tried to hide myself, change myself, whatever necessary. But all it takes is  _ one man _ , and I’m back and square one. Thanks to Thrynn,” she said angrily, facing him again, “I have to leave my home, and the only family I have left.” She scrubbed at her eyes, roughly wiping away tears. “I can’t trust anyone,” she finished shakily. Brynjolf hesitantly reached out to touch her, but Aerlith shook her head. “No.”

Brynjolf let out a breath. “Aerlith, you’ve played your cards close to the chest since we met. I don’t know a lot about you, but I know enough to guess that you haven’t had an easy time of it so far. I understand, I reckon.” He smiled sadly. “But I’ll say it again and again, lass. I care for you. I think you're scared, and I want to help. But if you choose not to trust me, I know I can't do that.”

“Good,” Aerlith said. Her anger had abated following her tirade. Now she was left with a hollow numbness. Even her inebriation seemed consumed by the emptiness she felt. 

“However, I can’t bring myself to let you go running off on your own. Aside from what’s begun lately with us, Aerlith, I do regard you as a friend, and a sister in arms. I don’t abandon my comrades so easily. And besides, don’t you think you’re forgetting something?”

“What?” she asked bitterly. 

“You, me, and Karliah. We took an oath together. We’re Nightingales. That’s a brotherhood you can’t betray.”

Aerlith scoffed. “Oh yes? And what about Mercer?”

Brynjolf had the decency to look chastened. “Ah, right. Poor choice of words on my part.” He thought for a moment then said, “That gives me an idea, though. You should go to Nightingale Hall. I wager that’s a safer place than wherever you were running off to. And you can’t tell me you truly don’t trust Karliah, lass.”

Pain seared through Aerlith’s chest at the thought. She shook her head. “Of course I trust her,” she said softly. 

“Right,” Bryjolf said in a businesslike tone. “Let’s get you back to the cistern and your things packed. You’ll go through the back entrance to avoid too many questions. I’ll be waiting for you in the graveyard. And wear your hood, would you, Aerlith?” He grinned at her cheekily. “That hair of yours is brighter than a beacon in the moonlight.”

"Wait! You're not coming with me." Aerlith meant it to sound definite, but it came out more like a question. 

"I'll escort you to Nightingale Hall, lass. Please allow me to do that, at least." Brynjolf smiled. "Once we're there, I'll feel better knowing you're with Karliah."

"Fine," Aerlith relented. 

"Quickly now, lass. Off you go," Brynjolf said, and stepped away into the shadows, leaving Aerlith alone with more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I updated this fic, but it's been on my mind nearly every day these past few months. I really treasure Aerlith as a character, and I'm excited about where this story will go. I hope you enjoy, and if you have any feedback on how I portray Aerlith's emotional state, please feel free to share. <3


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